WALT LONGMIRE
Normally, I watch videos or movies, but, lately, I've been enjoying novels.
I've been reading Hanging Curve (1999), the sixth novel in the Mickey Rawlings baseball mystery series written by Troy Soos. I already knew a lot about baseball history, but I've learned a lot more. Some of the characters, including Jimmy "Cool Papa" Bell, really played in 1922; Mickey Rawlings did not.
I read The Cat Who Came to Breakfast, a tongue-in-cheek mystery novel by Lilian Jackson Braun. I know I didn't finish it the other time I tried to read it.
I just finished Nightmare in Pink, a Travis McGee novel by John D. MacDonald. I thought I'd read all of the McGee novels, but this one had eluded me. Some of it, the madness, was hard to read. I enjoyed the last part immensely.
I'm reading The Judas Goat, a Spenser novel by Robert B. Parker. Spenser, in London on a case, gets shot in the butt. I'm more than one-third the way through.
I read The Cat Who Went Into the Closet by Lilian Jackson Braun. I've read most of the Cat Who novels more than once each, at least the ones set in Moose County.
I was reading Goldfinger, the spy novel by Ian Fleming. Interestingly, Auric Golfinger is British; Gert Frobe, Goldfinger in the movie, was German.
It's my second James Bond book, after Dr. No.
By the way, Bond asked for a vodka martini with a slice of lemon peel. No mention of shaken, not stirred.
I listened to a presentation of Agatha Christie's Death on the Nile. I'd seen the David Suchet movie, but I'd forgotten how the book ended. It was sad, of course.
I listened to the BBC presentation of H.G. Wells' The Time Machine. It was frightening in spots.
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